Revoking the WhiteGold Concordat
by Alex Newman
Summary: The tale of a blacksmith's apprentice who finds himself in the midst of a civil war and the return of the dragons. We follow our unlikely hero through the land of Skyrim to fulfil his destiny.
1. Prologue

Faced with about a dozen or so bandits, Radolf gazed into the depths of his steel longsword, his weather beaten face staring back at him. He thought about his next words; he did not doubt his ability, but he would rather not fight needlessly. He looked up from his sword to the gang of bandits facing him.

'Now, you could make this easy by handing over your captive, and I'll walk away like nothing happened. Or...' he paused for a dramatic effect 'I could kill you all.'

Their leader; a redguard who was a few inches shorter than Radolf, but built like a brick wall; looked amused and some of his comrades sniggered

'Well look, it's the hero come to save the damsel in distress' the leader spat mockingly 'you obviously haven't heard of me kid, because if you had you would never have come here. My name is Jartod, sacker of cities and I'll give you one chance and one chance only to take your pompous arse back to wherever you derive from before I make you food for the worms.'

'I guess it'll be the hard way then' Radolf smirked

Without any warning, Radolf sprang into the midst of the bandits, landing accurate and deadly blows on two of the bandits before they even had time to react. He dispatched a further 3 before any had drawn their weapons. A look of disbelief crossed Jartod's face, but a split second later it was replaced with anger, and he jumped at Radolf wielding two fearsome looking scimitars. Radolf merely jumped back and edged towards the tunnel he came through, which was barely wide enough for one person to pass at a time, and so would allow him greater odds.

'Get him!' Jartod screamed

The remaining bandits scrambled over each other to comply. Radolf drew in a breath, calmed his mind and readied his sword. The first bandit came running in, and was quickly dealt with by a sword though his chest. As his body slumped to the ground another bandit came attacking in a similar way and met a similar end. The third bandit approached with more caution and attempted a swing at Radolf's body, Radolf parried the incoming attack with his shield and swung his sword at the bandits neck. The sword sliced through the flesh with ease before hitting his spine with a sickening thud. Radolf placed his foot on the bandits chest and pushed him back to dislodge his sword. The growing pile of bodies was proving a challenge for the few remaining bandits and they had to climb over their fallen comrades before facing Radolf. The last 3 bandits didn't prove to be any trouble and they were all dealt with in quick succession. After finishing off the final bandit, Radolf climbed over the pile of dead bodies and advanced towards Jartod slowly, a sneer crossing his face. Jartod yelled and charged towards Radolf, using his dual scimitars to attack both sides, Radolf parried the first attack and used the flat of his blade to knock one of the scimitars from Jartod's hand whilst simultaneously kicking the side of Jartod's knee. He let out a cry of pain and fell to the ground. Just as Radolf was about to deliver the finishing blow, he heard and alien voice shouting.

_'Radolf!... Radolf, wake up!'_

Radolf was shaken from his dream world and awoke to see his father standing over him with and amused expression on his face.

'Radolf, are you coming to help me in the forge or not?' he asked

Radolf wiped the sleep from his eyes 'Yes father.' he replied

'Good! Be out in 10 minutes.' And with that his father left the room

Radolf sighed _'It's always the same dream' _he thought to himself _'why can't something exciting happen here for once'_

How cruel the fates were feeling that day, Radolf would have his wish answered, but not in the way he expected, and little did he know that the fates had planned something special for this seemingly unimportant apprentice.


	2. Elves

Chapter Two: Elves

Radolf dragged himself from his bed and quickly got dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror. Radolf was a Nord in his early twenties, he was average height for his race, which was a few inches taller than most of the other races in Tamriel. He had fair blond hair, deep blue eyes and a fair bit of stubble protruding from his chin. He admired himself in the mirror for a few moments before going to join his father in the forge.

'This civil war has increased business.' Radolf's father, Hulgar explained. 'So we have a lot of weapons and armor to make for the soldiers'

Radolf lived with his father in a small village west of Solitude called Winterbrook, this meant they were in a prime position to trade with the imperial soldiers in the city. Their village was basic, only consisting of a few wooden huts and the forge, there were few luxuries there, but that suited Radolf fine.

The crisp morning air woke Radolf instantly as he wandered over to the forge.

'Radolf, we're running low on coal, so could you head over to Solitude and buy some more?'

'Of course father, do we need anything else?'

'No, I think we're fine for everything else'

Hulgar handed his son enough septims for the coal and some mead from tavern named 'the winking skeever'.

It would take about a day to complete his task, and as only the rich could afford horses, Radolf had to make the journey there on foot and carry the coal back. He grabbed a few items to take with him, some bread, dried meat, and his sword. He would be making the whole journey on the roads, but you could never be too careful with a civil war on, and the threat of bandits was at an all time high. Radolf left immediately to ensure the majority of his journey would be in daylight.

By the time Radolf had reached Solitude he was exhausted and there were only a few hours of daylight left, he decided to head to 'the winking skeever' first so that he could regain his strength and hear stories from the bards.

'Solitude is a beautiful city' Radolf thought to himself, admiring the grand buildings, they were certainly more of imperial design than nordic, but radolf didn't care.

He made his way over to the tavern, and was greeted by the warm sound of bards playing and Nords drinking. He handed a few septims to the barman and went to find one of the quiet corners in the tavern. He spotted one of the bards close by.

'Bard' he said 'Play 'age of aggression''

'Ah!' The bard replied, a smile crossing his lips 'only true imperials request that one!'

As the bard started to play, Radolf leant back in his chair, letting the music wash over him, rid him of his troubles and take him someplace else.

_'Music really is one of the luxuries in life' _Radolf mused silently

Once the bard had finished playing, Radolf handed him a couple of septims, to which the bard gave him a gracious smile.

After finishing his mead, Radolf went to buy coal from one of the traders when he overheard a conversation between a guard and a stranger, Radolf couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could tell it was serious because the stranger was covered in a mixture of dirt and blood. His curiosity getting the better of him, he got closer so he could hear the conversation.

'Elves...Winterbrook...Massacre.' The Stranger puffed

Radolf's heart stopped and his blood ran cold. _''No. It can't be'_

He ran over to the guard,

'What's happened?'

'Some Elves attacked Winterbrook, it was a massacre, I was lucky to escape' The stranger replied

'But why Winterbrook?'

'I think one of them mentioned cutting off the supply lines to the Imperials'

Then it dawned on him, this wasn't a random attack, the Elves targeted the forge because they knew his father was suppling the imperials with weapons and armor for the war. Radolf started to sprint towards the main gate.

'Citizen!' The guard called out. 'I would advise you to stay here until some guards can be sent!'

But Radolf wasn't listening, and with that he flung the gates open and started running towards Winterbrook.


End file.
